He hasn't been calculating, so his reaction is pure instinct. He tries to elbow Bane, but his hands are bound, and he stops himself from rolling to the side.
He tamps down the shock and looks at Bane again, waiting.
"You were a slave. And you know what life as one is like here. I never had it as bad as the others did. Up until you, I could beat them off. So they took it out on other people. I- you said 'damaged', I'm just borrowing your word."
He speaks about it flatly, giving all his interest to the food.
He takes the bread, chagrined. He's reactive but usually very controlled about it. Bane still scares him, he realizes. Not the soul-deep terror of bats or failure, but something that sits in a primal part of his brain.
Or maybe it's just his ego. He is always the strongest fighter in a room. He's never had to deal so blatantly with not being. Either way, he swallows his bread.
Coffee at dawn. It's so idyllic he hasn't even imagined doing anything like this.
"Last time I had someone else? ...Three, four years ago. It was never really something I was that interested in to begin with. Then things got busy...."
"Don't. I told you, my master took it out on others because I refused him."
Which is hell for a man like Bruce Wayne. He can endure, and will endure, whatever it takes to keep people safe, but failure to them is torture for him.
"So I paralyzed him. I crawled in through his window, I put him against the balcony, and I stabbed him in the back. I was sent away and no one ever asked to have me as a bedmate after that. Meanwhile, some poor girl or boy is taking up where I should have been."
He slides out of his clothes with familiar grace. He almost thinks he would have stripped even without Bane asking; the sun and shade feel so good dappled on his skin.
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Then, his hand is at the front of Bruce's pants.
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He tamps down the shock and looks at Bane again, waiting.
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Soft, hand resting flat on his abdomen.
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"People I've been around say a lot of things. I didn't think I was your type."
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Hand still rubbing soothingly at his stomach.
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That and he's not sure how far Bane is actually prepared to go.
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Setting him back down, moving instead for the bag.
He's brought breakfast. Bread and a thermos of coffee.
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He speaks about it flatly, giving all his interest to the food.
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He informs him, handing him a slice of bread.
"It will not harm you physically unless you fight violently."
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Or maybe it's just his ego. He is always the strongest fighter in a room. He's never had to deal so blatantly with not being. Either way, he swallows his bread.
"I won't."
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Pouring him coffee from the thermos, into one of the two mugs.
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Coffee at dawn. It's so idyllic he hasn't even imagined doing anything like this.
"Last time I had someone else? ...Three, four years ago. It was never really something I was that interested in to begin with. Then things got busy...."
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Impressed, eyebrows lifting.
"I have never heard of that."
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Which is hell for a man like Bruce Wayne. He can endure, and will endure, whatever it takes to keep people safe, but failure to them is torture for him.
"So I paralyzed him. I crawled in through his window, I put him against the balcony, and I stabbed him in the back. I was sent away and no one ever asked to have me as a bedmate after that. Meanwhile, some poor girl or boy is taking up where I should have been."
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Observes Bane, perfectly practical in a way that is a little reminiscent of a long-lost doctor with glasses and a menace of a car.
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"You remember what Ra's called it? Head on a stick?"
Bruce had never been so cruel that he had used it before.
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He announces, reaching up, sliding a hand slowly up Bruce's back. The sun is high enough now that they're both painted with splashes of colour.
"After so long in such pain, you deserve a touch of hedonism."
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"I don't know that I've earned it. But I wouldn't turn it down."
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He reminds him. He is Bane's now.
"Undress the rest of the way."
Now that the air is warming.
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"Are you an early riser?"
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Teasing, just a bit.
He does watch Bane, though, the vest and those utilitarian pants that seem to fit just so.
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He murmurs, moving, taking him down onto his back on the soft blanket, looming over him, all patience and strength.
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"You're a day person?"
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Hands settling on his hips, running gently up his sides. He starts to occupy him with just touching.
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